


Stitched Up

by ScrollingKingfisher



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (for both of them), Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is a terrible patient, Getting those stitches out is a little more problematic than in canon, Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lucifer returns, M/M, Minor Character Death, Poor Gabriel, Poor Sam, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14231934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/pseuds/ScrollingKingfisher
Summary: Sam managed to get Gabriel out of hell. Rescuing him took a little longer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this before the latest episode and -- HOT DAMN I PRETTY MUCH CALLED IT AAAGGGGHHHH I'M SO EXCITED!!! IT'S EVEN BETTER THAN I IMAGINED HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE-
> 
> *ahem* yeah, I'm chill. I'm chill.
> 
> I should mention, this only exists because of @theriverscribe, who talked me down from my fortnightly 'ohmygod my writing is terrible, unoriginal and I should just delete it' crisis, because she is a blessing on us all <3
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. This one's dedicated to all of us who didn't let our ship sink for eight very, very long years!!!
> 
> .

 

“We’ll be gone at least a few weeks,” Cas told him while he packed Dean’s bag into the back of the Impala. 

 

Sam nodded. They’d been over the plan three times already, but they were all still milling around the garage in uncertainty. Sam knew the real reason Dean and Cas weren’t already on the road. Dean was reluctant to leave him alone with their… visitor.

 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright here? You know… with him?” Dean gave him a significant look, glancing back at the bunker entrance, and Sam tried not to be offended. After all, Dean was right; it wasn’t like his patchy history with this particular archangel was any secret.

 

He gave Dean what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Cas says his grace is repressed, right? He can’t do much to hurt me without it. And someone needs to stay here and look after him. You saw him last night, he’s not going anywhere for a while.”

 

Dean still looked dubious as he swung himself into the driver’s seat, and Sam had to smother a twinge of irritation. Sure, he knew he hadn’t been coping as well as he could have recently, but he could manage to hold down the fort while Dean and Cas tracked down Lucifer. It wasn’t like Sam wanted to be within a hundred miles of  _ that  _ archangel, anyway. Lucifer made dealing with a wounded Gabriel look like sunshine and rainbows in comparison. He suspected Dean had suggested he stay behind for that reason, but he wasn’t going to argue. He’d be fine here with Gabriel. 

 

Probably.

 

He waved as the Impala peeled away in a cloud of dust, lowering his hand slowly once they were out of view. With a sigh he let his shoulders slump and turned, heading back through the door and clomping down the spiral stairs. He detoured via the kitchen, snagging more gauze on his way towards the bedrooms.

 

It was the first one in the corridor, the one that they had rushed Gabriel into the night before, covered in years worth of dirt and his own blood. Sam hesitated, reluctant to go in but knowing he should. Looking down, he noticed a trail of brown spatters that he hadn’t had a chance to clean up. Like a grim game of connect-the-dots, beckoning him inside.

 

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and knocked. 

 

“I’m coming in.” He slowly pulled the door open, not waiting for a reply.

 

Even when he knew exactly who was in the room, it was still a shock to see his face again. After that year of chasing him in mystery spot, Sam would recognise him anywhere. He thought he’d managed to bury those memories under all the bad things that had happened since then, but seeing the trickster in the flesh brought it all back in horrible detail.

 

Gabriel was sitting against the headboard, looking just as haggard and mutilated as when they’d brought him in. Rescuing him from hell after Ketch’s tip-off had been like one of Sam’s nightmares: all hooks and chains, nothing of Crowley’s bureaucracy left. And right in the middle of the nightmare, locked in a goddamn cage in the throne room itself, he’d found Gabriel, filthy and so battered looking that even Sam had flinched. The terrified squeak and the whimpers he'd made when Sam had pulled him out would be haunting his nightmares for a while.

 

The blood was gone now, as was the dirt. Sam was just relieved that Gabriel had remained unconscious while they were bathing him, because his grace might have been exhausted and restrained, but he had still nearly managed to take off a limb when Cas tried to bandage the wounds littered across his chest. The reason that they hadn’t healed was apparently because the bastards who sewed his lips shut had done it with some sort of cursed wire dipped in holy oil. Cas had looked horrified when he inspected the wounds, but Gabriel had just closed his eyes, shaking and in shock, but unfortunately aware enough to flinch every time they touched him.

 

He wasn’t looking as afraid now, staring Sam down across the room with defiance sparking in his gaze despite his enforced silence. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Gabriel wasn’t going to be a model patient. It was confirmed when he held up the new bandages and Gabriel’s frown became a full-on scowl.

 

“Come on, we need to change them. You’re soaking through already.”

 

Gabriel must still have access to some tiny part of his grace, Sam thought as he peeled away the bandages soaked in red from around Gabriel’s torso, because he should have been unconscious with that much blood loss. Either that or he was keeping himself awake out of pure stubbornness.

 

But the brief moment of bravado from earlier was gone. Gabriel tensed and shivered as Sam touched him, cringed back no matter how gentle he was. Judging where he was kept, Sam knew that it had been a while since anyone touched him and it didn’t hurt. He was the same when he… got back. He remembered the desperate need for a friendly touch, and the overwhelming terror whenever anyone did. Sam swallowed, roughly pushing back the memories.

 

He wrapped the wounds again, hiding the deep gashes the demons had made in a last-ditch attempt to stop the rescue. His mind started to drift dangerously as his eyes fell on the last line of stitches. He knew exactly what weapon the demon used to make those. He knew because he’d seen those wounds before on himself, down in the cage.

 

His hands tugged the bandages a little too tight. Gabriel grunted in pain through the stitches.

 

“Sorry, sorry.”

 

Gabriel was even greyer by the time Sam finished, sweat beading at his temples, dripping down as little tremors wracked his frame. Sam stood quickly, grabbing the soiled bandages and retreating, leaving a mobile next to the bed. He needed to get it together, this was all coming too close to his past. He had to get out of here before he started seeing blood coming through the walls.

 

“I’ll be back later, call if you need me,” he managed to stutter out.

 

Gabriel’s head bobbed in a nod, or it could have been verging on passing out, but Sam was already hurrying out the door. He didn’t want to admit that he was running, but he was. He barrelled into the kitchen, dumped the bandages in the bin and went to wash his hands, scrubbing determinedly at the skin, trying to remove the red from every crease, ignoring the way his fingers were shaking.

 

It was only when he was done that he gave himself a second to breathe. He braced himself against the counter and leant back, closing his eyes. Absentmindedly, he let his thumb dig into the scar on his palm, just as a reminder.

 

Every time he thought of the wounds, the jagged incisions ripped through Gabriel’s lips, it brought back memories. Things he’d rather not remember.

 

Sam knew that he was… eroding. It had been happening for years. Every time something happened, the latest disastair, little bits of him chipped away. One day, there might be nothing left of him at all. 

 

But he didn’t matter; what mattered was that every time he lost a little more, he felt less and less able to push the memories down and ignore them. Less able to focus on hope, on keeping everyone else hoping too. And if he was going to be of any use for healing Gabriel, that’s what he would have to do.

 

Sam had thought that they’d seen the last of him, that Gabriel was long gone. They hadn’t even gone back to the hotel to check for a body. Sam could remember wanting to,  but he was a coward even back then. He hadn’t wanted to see those ashy wings spread across the floor, yet more evidence of his path of destruction. Another ally gone.

 

But if they’d gone back, they might have known that Gabriel was still alive. They might have looked for him. So in a way, it was Sam’s fault that Gabriel spent all that time down there. Sam’s fault for not pushing the issue and going to find him. Which meant that it was Sam’s job to set things right.

 

He was going to help Gabriel, even if it killed him.

 

.o0o.

 

Sam didn’t sleep that night. He was too alert. 

 

He thought that he could hear muffled noises coming from Gabriel’s room a few times, but when he crept outside the door and listened more closely, there was nothing. He didn’t bother going back to bed after that. Instead he went to the library and pored over books on binding curses until his eyes stung and the palm of his hand was red and sore.

 

By the time morning came he was even more tired and strung out, but he had a solution. A little rummaging in the store rooms (thank Chuck for the Men of Letters and their meticulous filing systems) and he emerged triumphantly with a pair of wire cutters. He inspected the miniature runes gouged into the blade and nodded to himself. These should work. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. 

 

He grabbed more bandages and knocked on the door of Gabriel’s room, letting himself in. Gabriel looked up sharply. He looked better, Sam noted, colour already starting to return to his face.

 

“Morning. How did you sleep?” He waited a second with Gabriel just staring at him before he coughed awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. “Right. Anyway, I think I’ve figured out how to get rid of the wire.”

 

Gabriel perked up immediately at that. But then Sam held up the wire cutters. 

 

Gabriel actually shuddered when he saw the tiny blades. He shook his head, the movement stiff and jerky, eyes not shifting from the pliers. Sam knew what that kind of reaction meant. He didn’t want to know what they’ve been doing to Gabriel down there for all those years, but he could imagine.

 

“Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I know you want the wires off.” Gabriel was still eyeing the wire cutters like they might leap up and bite him. Sam sighed. “Do you want to do it yourself?” 

 

Gabriel nodded, reaching forwards. Sam held the pliers out. Gabriel took them, holding them awkwardly, poised in front of his face. Then he just stopped, staring at them. 

 

Sam waited. He could see the pliers trembling in Gabriel’s grip. Gabriel made an aborted attempt to bring them closer to his mouth, but his hands were shaking so hard that Sam was afraid that he would do more damage than good. 

 

Gabriel gave up with a frustrated groan and let the wire cutters drop into his lap, closing his eyes, breathing heavily.  Sam let him have a second, then reached out and took the pliers from his limp grasp. “Do you want me to try?”

 

Gabriel grimaced and nodded, but it looked like it was taking all his self control to stop himself from diving off the bed. Sam suppressed another sigh and pulled the chair from the desk closer so that it was facing him, the legs scraping across the floor. He sat, looking at Gabriel critically.

 

“Are you sure? We can wait, do this another time.”

 

Gabriel scowled then nodded more emphatically, along with a gesture that Sam read as ‘just get it over with!’

 

Sam shrugged and leant in, as slow and careful as he could, projecting his movements so Gabriel could see what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if it was working or if it was making it worse. Gabriel’s eyes were wide, too wide, the pupils dilated with fear. Sam could hear his breath coming fast and hard, rasping a little like he would be panting if he could open his mouth. Sam felt a prickle of static electricity lift the hairs on the backs of his hands, and hesitated. 

 

Well, they would still have to do this one way or another. It would be better for both of them if Sam got on and did it. He leant forward, putting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder to steady him. He raised the pliers.

 

He knew instantly that he’d made a mistake. Gabriel’s eyes went round as saucers and for a half second, his irises went from caramel brown to white. 

 

There was a  _ crack  _ and a BANG and before Sam even had time to process anything he was flying across the room. He landed hard, collapsing against the dresser, groaning where it jarred his left hip. He could feel every hair on his body standing on end, his skin tingling. He felt like he’d been narrowly missed by a speeding bullet train. Awkwardly, he pushed himself back to his feet. 

 

The entire room stank of ozone and charred fabric. Little scraps of stuffing drifted through the air like snow. There was a hole in the duvet exactly where Gabriel had been sitting, the fabric still smoking. Crackles of electricity were running up and down the walls, leaping from the metal bedframe and the door handle. The grace lingering on the air made Sam shiver, made him feel sick with dread, made him want to  _ runrunrun _ out of the room as fast as he could, but he locked his knees and stood his ground.

 

He looked around, and found Gabriel hunkered down in the opposite corner of the room. His head was bowed, but his hands gripped his knees so tight that the tendons stood out, and Sam could see his back heaving with shuddering breaths. Sam swallowed and took a hesitant step forwards, wincing as his hip protested.

 

“Gabriel?”

 

Gabriel’s head snapped up and his still-glowing eyes fixed on Sam. Pinned him to the spot. Sam felt his blood freeze in his veins. He almost broke. He held up his hands, ignoring the way they shook. “It’s alright. I’m staying right over here. I’m not gonna touch you.”

 

Gabriel might not have been able to control his grace voluntarily, but it seemed to have a mind of its own when Gabriel felt threatened. What the hell had they done to him down there? Sam fought to keep his own voice steady. He needed Gabriel to calm down, or he would be in real danger. “I’m here. Just me. You’re safe now.” 

 

Gabriel glared at him, about as friendly as a cactus, but the glow was slowly dying from his eyes. He uncurled enough that he could slump against the wall, his legs stretching out in front of him. Eventually he stopped staring at Sam and let his head loll back against the wall, letting out a long, exhausted sigh through his nose. Sam let himself relax the tiniest amount.

 

“So, I’m guessing we’ll have to find another way to get the wires off,” he said, not really thinking. 

 

Gabriel rolled his head on the wall to glare at him again, and Sam could almost hear Gabriel’s voice in his head, telling him  _ you’d better drop it bucko, or I’ll pull these threads out of my lips myself and use them to cheese wire your brain into paper thin slices, just try me _ .

 

Sam sighed shakily and made his exit. Back to square one.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

So, for now at least, getting the wires off Gabriel’s lips was out of the question.

 

The next couple of days were hard. The archangel flinched at loud noises. He didn’t seem to need to eat, thank Chuck, but he slept. Sam found out the hard way that he didn’t like to be woken when he a hand on his forearm got him thrown bodily across the room again.

 

Sam didn’t let himself get too frustrated, because he knew what Gabriel was going through. He had been through it enough before. Gabriel was helpless, he was afraid, and he was angry  _ because  _ he was afraid and helpless. Sam could see the frustration clearly every time Gabriel snapped his fingers and nothing happened. Or, even worse, when his grace lashed out, apparently out of his control. Sam thought back to the Mystery spot, to TV land; Gabriel was all about control, and having his very being acting out without his permission? Must have been pretty damn terrifying. Not to mention terrifying for Sam. It was still hard to be in the same room as the archangel sometimes. When Gabriel had accidentally blown up the toaster in frustration, he was ashamed to say that he’d hidden in the bathroom for the rest of the morning, trying desperately to get the shaking under control.

 

He didn’t want to admit to himself that Gabriel had become his latest project, but he had. Jack was gone, Mom was gone, even Dean and Cas were still galavanting around the country trying to keep up with Lucifer. For Sam, trying to fix other people was better than acknowledging the unfixable parts of himself. Not to mention, being stuck in a bunker with a moody archangel wasn’t his idea of fun.

 

So he racked his brains for some way to improve Gabriel’s mood. Food was out, asking him to open up about hell was pointless. 

 

Sam thought that maybe, Gabriel was just bored. So he tried to find out what Gabriel  _ did  _ want. It stood to reason that he had to be frustrated at not being able to express himself; the Gabriel that Sam had known had done nothing  _ but  _ express himself. 

Sam tried asking him yes and no questions. Gabriel ignored him and stared pointedly at the wall. Sam pulled out paper, pens, a tablet, a laptop, phones, anything Gabriel could conceivably write on, but Gabriel refused to touch any of it.

 

However surly the archangel was, though, he did seem reluctant to leave Sam’s side. When Sam was out of the room for more than a few minutes, he was twitchy and anxious when he came back,. His fingers drummed on the tables and his eyes following Sam whenever he was in the room, like if he let him out of his sight he might vanish. Sam was sure Gabriel only went back to his own room at night by pure stubborn force of will, but he still slept with the light on. Like he was constantly reminding himself that the bunker wasn’t hell.

 

So Sam changed tactics. Maybe, if he wanted to help Gabriel improve, he needed to get him out of underground concrete bunkers.

 

And it worked. A little. The third morning after Sam declared his wounds healed enough to walk around, he dragged Gabriel out of the bunker and into the open air. Gabriel rolled his eyes dramatically, but when he stepped out into the sun, squinting with eyes accustomed to cavernous darkness, Sam thought he might have seen the tiniest smile on his face. 

 

It was the perfect day for it; the leaves were just starting to unfurl on the trees, birds singing, the whole landscape brimming with potential and new life. Even the decrepit exterior of the bunker looked cheerful under the bright sunlight.

 

Sam kept up a one-sided conversation as they walked slowly along the well-trodden path. “I run along here. Well, not so much anymore, but… anyway. So I’ve told you where Dean and Cas are, right? And about mom and Jack? I think you’ll like Jack, he’s a good kid. You’ll probably corrupt him into eating inhuman amounts of sugar and pranking us all as soon as he gets back, but I’ll know it’s you so go for Dean first, he won’t be expecting it.” Sam saw Gabriel’s mouth turn up into an almost grin out of the corner of his eye, and felt his optimism grow. It put a bounce in his step as he led them through the woods.

 

Sam lost track of his words as he walked. Being outside had always been calming for him, whether he was running or not. He talked about how he used to go on runs as a child to get away from John’s looks of disapproval, and Dean’s unquestioning obedience. And then at Stanford, to get away from the stress of studying. All these years, running from so many things; guilt from starting the apocalypse, trying to outrun his own hallucinations, trying to outrun his grief over Dean dying. He found himself talking about everything, Dean’s time as a demon, the British Men of Letters, releasing Amara and then the long, strenuous attempt to lock her away again.

 

Sam looked down to see Gabriel’s sharp eyes watching him closely, and he trailed off, feeling his face heat. He’d almost forgotten that Gabriel was there. He hadn’t meant to spill his guts, but it had been so long since someone had been there just to  _ listen  _ that he’d done it without thinking.

 

They rounded a bend in the track into a clearing as an awkward silence fell, and oh. Sam had almost forgotten it led past here. He sped up a little, as he always did, trying to pass through as quickly as possible, but slowed when he reached the other side and realised that Gabriel wasn’t with him.

 

“Gabriel?”

 

Gabriel had stopped, looking across the sunlit grass of the clearing to the collection of wooden crosses. He walked across to them and stared down at the names etched into them. Sam reluctantly followed, shoes sinking into the damp grass.

 

The silence was almost suffocating, the cheerful birdsong and light breeze seemed doubly out of place. Gabriel turned to face him, raising an eyebrow in question.

 

“It’s all the… all of our friends.” Sam told him quietly, reluctantly. “When we first settled here, I wanted to… remember them, somehow. And we often don’t get the bodies back anyway, so…”

 

Gabriel’s eyes darted across them, too many of them. Across the fresh, new wood bearing Eileen’s name, to Charlie’s, to Kevin’s, until he reached the stained and weathered crosses belonging to Ellen and Jo and Bobby. He walked forward until he was facing the last one, which had moss growing on it almost thick enough to obscure the letters. But Sam knew that if you looked close enough you can still make out ‘Gabriel’ carved into it.

 

Gabriel just looked up at him, something like confusion in his expression. Sam shrugged uncomfortably. “You died for us, in the end. And I thought, if we didn’t remember you… I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore, right?” He chuckled awkwardly. Gabe just stared back down at his own name. Like he hadn’t imagined that anyone would want to remember him. Which was honestly just sad.

 

Sam looked around bleakly at the crosses. These little reminders of the reality of his life always seem to strip away all his little self-deceptions. That was why he had planted them, after all. He wouldn’t let himself forget. His friends didn’t deserve to be forgotten, and he didn’t deserve to be forgiven for their deaths. 

 

He felt a light pressure on his forearm, pulling him back to Earth. He looked down. Gabriel’s hand was there, just resting, a comforting weight. The lattice of fresh scars still stood out against his pale skin. Sam looked up, and he saw understanding in Gabriel’s tawny eyes. He might even have seen compassion, but that might just have been his own thin hopefulness making him see things which aren’t there. 

 

Sam sighed and Gabriel let his hand drop. It slipped off too soon, leaving a chilly spot. Suddenly, the air spring felt cold against his skin.  Sam cast one last glance at the crosses, then turned away.

 

“Come on.” He led Gabriel back along the path. “I’m getting cold.” 

 

They were more subdued as they walked back towards the bunker. This time, the silence felt oppressive.

 

.o0o.

 

Despite their little moment in the clearing, Gabriel still had bad days and worse days. He was listless and apathetic, and nothing Sam did seemed to change that, but sometimes he would be content to sit next to Sam while he researched how to rescue Mary and Jack. 

 

Sam was worried about him. He knew Gabriel found his fussing irritating, even if he still wouldn’t communicate with him, but he couldn’t stop trying. If there was anything he could do to alleviate Gabriel’s depression, he would do it. He had to keep hoping for both of them, even if he didn’t feel very hopeful himself these days.

 

On the bad days Gabriel would silently rage, hating the world and everything in it and refusing to communicate with Sam at all. They lost another toaster and three lamps to Gabriel’s temper and out of control grace before Sam sent him out of the bunker whenever he needed to cool off. That way they wouldn’t have to keep replacing the light bulbs, but also (not that Sam would tell him this,) Sam wouldn’t have to spend half an hour in the bathroom calming down whenever Gabriel got frustrated. The rage still reminded him too much of another archangel.

 

It wasn’t a good day when Sam decided to try sign language. 

 

Sam hesitantly knelt down next to his bed, sticking his arm into the dark space underneath. He groped around until he found the books on sign language that he had shoved there months before. He pulled them out, handling them reverently, carefully considering them before wiping off the dust on the covers and carrying them through to the library. 

 

Gabriel was lounging at the table when he walked in. He was pretending that he was relaxed, but there was tight tension in his shoulders, a barely contained restlessness just under the surface. He looked coolly up at Sam as he passed, and his expression only closed off more as Sam sat determinedly opposite him. 

 

Not to be defeated, Sam set the books down carefully on the table between himself and Gabriel’s icy disdain. Gabriel just narrowed his eyes maliciously, like he could see right through what Sam was trying to do and was determined to be as angry, stubborn and contrary as possible at every opportunity.

 

Sam was hoping that Gabriel already knew how to sign, being the Messenger, but he was prepared if not. He took a deep breath and swallowed the lump of memories in his throat, then laboriously spelled out with his fingers, / _ do you want to talk? _ /  

 

Gabriel looked at him directly, and Sam felt a spark of hope. Maybe this, finally, would be the turning point that he’d been waiting for. But that feeling abruptly died when Gabriel flipped him the bird, turning deliberately away. Without thinking, Sam reached forwards.

 

A flash of grace had him leaping backwards with a yelp. It snapped through the air, and suddenly Sam could  _ feel  _ Gabriel’s anger and the restlessness, the hurt and rage. And under all of that, heart-stopping, gut-wrenching terror, the same kind that Sam carried with him.  It paralysed him, a sudden flash of memory chilling him to his bones. The electricity crackled across the table, a spark landing on the books. 

 

“Hey!” Sam yelled, snapping out of it and leaping forwards to bat desperately at the pages. The flames extinguished themselves as quickly as they came, and Sam was relieved to find that the corners of the pages were only lightly singed, but that was quickly forgotten as the first real anger he’d felt towards Gabriel so far reared up in its place. “What the fuck do you think you-” But when he looked up, Gabriel was gone, vanished into the depths of the bunker. Back to running away, Sam thought viciously, still shaking from the aftershocks.

 

He shook his head, scowling down at the books. “What am I doing?” He muttered roughly to himself. Why the hell was he even bothering? Gabriel had made it very clear that he hated Sam, hated the bunker, and hated this entire situation. What Gabriel wanted, apparently, was to be left alone so he could sulk in peace. Which stung, but Sam could take a hint.

 

He didn’t bother trying to find the archangel, and for once he went to bed early. The flash of exposed grace had left him raw and cold, memories that were usually long buried lying close under the surface. He knew even as he turned off the light that it was going to be a rough night. Maybe he could get a few hours of rest before the nightmares set in.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments peeps, I adore everyone in this bar!!
> 
> Chapter warning for cage torture (not shown, nothing too graphic), PTSD and panic attacks.

 

 

Sam knew he was in hell before he opened his eyes. He was back in the cage, like he’d never left.

 

It was dark, it was always dark, but the red glow burnt low in the corners of his vision. The dim shadows of hooks loomed out of the gloom. The familiar stink of sulfur and rot and Sam’s own terror permeated the air. He was surrounded by fire, but he was still so cold. How could he be cold?

 

“Saaaammy! Where aaaaare you?” Sam spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. He let out an involuntary yelp. Lucifer was right there, in front of him, but Sam’s feet were glued to the floor. There was no escape. He started to shake.

 

“Oh, there you are! Don’t you worry, Sammy-boy.” Lucifer waltzed forwards, patting him on the cheek as he recoiled. “We’ve got a special treat tonight!”

 

Then he turned and walked away. What was he doing? Sam’s stomach clenched in anticipation. Lucifer never left him alone, not for any good reason. It had to be a trap. Sam suddenly noticed the slab Lucifer was approaching, and tied to it was-

 

He sucked in a quick, horrified breath. “No! Gabriel!”

 

Gabriel turned his head towards him, his eyes desperate. He struggled against the bindings, a low sob shuddering through him. Sam strained forwards, but he couldn’t move either. Lucifer laughed, his smile turning even more cruel as he walked around the table, looking down at his little sibling. “Asmodeus did a good job on those stitches. But you know what? I think we can do one better.” He pulled out a thick, curved needle, a long piece of thread trailing from it. Gabriel's eyes widened and he let out a terrified whine. “What do you think happens to an archangel if you put in stitches soaked in holy oil then set them on fire? I guess we’re gonna find out.”

 

“No! Please, me, hurt me instead!” Sam yelled, fighting against his unresponsive body. He had to save Gabriel, he couldn’t let Lucifer hurt him, not after everything, they’d only just found him again-

 

Lucifer gave him a quizzical glance, one eyebrow rising. “Why should you care? He’s nothing but a nuisance, isn’t he? Annoying, whiny, angry, broken.” Lucifer trailed the tip of the needle over the partially-healed cut on Gabriel’s cheek and he flinched, shaking and whimpering. “All the horrible things they did to him, and who does he choose to take his anger out on? You. And let’s not forget all the times he killed your brother.”

 

“I don’t care!” Sam shouted, desperate. “I don’t care what he did! I just care about…” Him. And it was true, Sam realised with a sinking heart. He did care about Gabriel more than as a patient. He cared about him as a friend. He had seen a glimpse of who Gabriel really was, under all the masks and trauma, and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt him anymore. Not like this.

 

Lucifer tilted his head. “Fascinating. You really do care.” His smile grew sharp as a shark’s. “Sounds like we’ll be having even more fun. I was planning on making this short and sweet, but now I think I might draw it out a little! Really watch him squirm while I skin him alive, doesn’t that sound good? And don’t worry, bunk buddy, I haven’t forgotten about you! You stay right over there, you’re next!” He laughed, bending forwards, the gleam of the needle reflecting from Gabriel’s wide, terrified eyes.  

 

“No!” Sam couldn’t help it, he screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t watch. He heard Gabriel start screaming; hoarse, desperate wails from behind sealed lips. He could feel tears of terror and helplessness trickling down his cheeks. Gabriel’s screams got louder, echoing around his skull. Sam sobbed. “Stop… please…” But he knew Lucifer wouldn’t stop. He’d keep going until Gabriel was a broken piece of meat, and then he’d come for Sam. He couldn’t save Gabriel, he couldn’t save anyone, he was _useless-_

 

The weight holding him still suddenly released, and he staggered back unexpectedly. He tripped, letting out a terrified yell, and he was falling…

 

He hit the ground with a jarring thud, curling himself into a tight ball. He choked on his breath, and swallowed down the next scream, reeled it in to heaving sobs. Gabriel was gone, he was lost, but Lucifer might still be out there. He had to stay quiet, he had to stay silent or Lucifer would find him again, and when he did...

 

He flinched and cried out when the door flew open, shaking in terror. He cowered, hiding himself even though he knew it was futile. He was coming, Lucifer had found him, there was no escape, he was already choking-

 

Sam’s head spun, his chest spasming as he fought for air. He jolted when he felt hands on him, touching his shoulders and back, but not gripping his hair or digging into his flesh like he expected. Too gentle for Lucifer.

 

There was a click and warm light stabbed into Sam’s eyes, leaving him gasping. There were muted noises coming from next to him, like someone humming, but his eyes were still screwed shut, afraid to look. The hands were back, firm on his shoulders, encouraging him to uncoil from his cramped position. Sam took a shuddering breath, coughing it back out as his chest spasmed. He could feel tears on his face, saliva running down his chin. Shame threatened to creep in under the suffocating terror. He was whining, he realised distantly, little wheezed ugly noises of distress.

 

The humming got louder, a simple, repetitive melody. It was muffled and out of tune, but it was enough for Sam to cling to while he concentrated on breathing, in and out in time with the rhythm. Memories started to trickle back in. He wasn’t in the cage any more. He was in the bunker. He had been… in bed? Yes, then he’d fallen out, that was what had woken him. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare, not real. The cold hard surface against his back was the wall, and those warm hands resting on his shoulders…

 

He opened his eyes and looked up. It was still a surprise to see Gabriel. Gabriel, who was safe and here with him, not down in the cage. Just kneeling next to him humming quietly, waiting for Sam to calm down.

 

Sam’s sense of shame grew. He hated people seeing him like this, seeing how weak he was. He thought about shifting away, but Gabriel was warm, and the contact didn’t seem to be making him uncomfortable. So Sam just leant in with a sigh, cherishing the contact while it lasted.

 

Slowly, his heart began to return to normal. He sat up a little, grimacing when he realised he was covered in a layer of cold terror sweat. Gabriel pulled back, and Sam had to force himself not to follow the warmth of his presence. He swallowed to try and get the solid lump out of his throat. The words came out thick anyway. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you up.”

 

Gabriel shrugged, looking away, as though he hadn’t just spent half an hour talking Sam down from choking on his own saliva. His mouth twisted, stitches tugging at his lips, then he brought his left hand up to his chest, curled it into a fist and rubbed it hesitantly in a circle over his sternum.

 

_/I'm sorry./_

 

Sam looked at him in shock, the surprise at Gabriel signing to him washing away the last of the nightmare. Finally, Gabriel was talking to him! He shook himself, pulling himself together to answer. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Gabriel’s expression said that he wasn’t convinced. _/My grace. My fault./_ He signed out the letters of ‘grace’ individually, hands moving smoothly from one sign to the next with an elegance that Sam could never manage. _/I was angry, I hurt you. I didn’t realise-/_ he cut himself off.

 

Sam shrugged, mouth turning up in a wry smile. “Yeah, but you aren't exactly in control of your grace. I don’t blame you for being angry, I would be too. And Lucifer’s the one who messed me up. If we’re going to blame anyone, it should be him.” Gabriel snorted, which Sam took as grudging agreement.

 

Sam struggled laboriously to his feet, using the bed for support. His hip ached again where he had fallen on it. Gabriel stood quickly and offered a hand, which Sam took gratefully, letting him pull him the rest of the way up onto wobbly legs. "Thanks."

 

Sam walked to the door, then turned back to Gabriel, still watching him uncertainly from by the bed. “I’m gonna have a shower. I’ll probably be in the library after that, if you want to join me?”

 

Gabriel shot him a salute, and Sam’s chest constricted as Gabriel actually _smiled_ at him, a real smile, creases forming at the edges of his eyes. He couldn’t help smiling back. How had he never noticed how warm Gabriel’s eyes were? Maybe he was just high on relief that the nightmare wasn’t true, that Gabe was finally opening up.

 

His grin lasted all the way through the shower, and then all the way back through to the library. He’d half expected it to be empty, but Gabriel was waiting for him, head buried in a book with his feet up on the table. He was looking more relaxed than Sam had ever seen him, as though some of the hidden tension he always carried had released. He looked like he was home. Like he belonged there.

 

Gabriel looked up as Sam walked in, the buttery light from the lamps making his irises shimmer gold. Sam’s smile grew as hope kindled warm in his chest. Yes, they were both eventually going to be alright.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Things started to improve after that. 

 

Gabriel still followed Sam during the day, watched as he researched and manned the phones, occasionally signing a word or two. This time, though, he was actually paying attention to what Sam was doing, rather than just following him around out of boredom. 

 

Sam caught him watching from the corner of the library as he ate his meals, a small frown turning down the corners of his mouth. The next day food started appearing in the fridge, more than the cereal and crackers he’d been surviving off, healthy things that he didn’t have to force himself to choke down. Gabriel watched him munching through a large portion of lasagne with an expression of great satisfaction.

 

Sam learnt a lot about Gabriel in the next few weeks. He discovered that Gabriel loved netflix crime dramas, and could sit and watch murder mysteries with him in the den for hours, enthralled. They took time off from the constant research and worked their way through Downton Abbey in one weekend, lounging on the couches together in nothing but sweats and t-shirts. Sam discovered that Gabriel loved to take long baths. He smiled whenever he passed the bathroom door and heard the splashing and the scent of Gabriel stealing all of his nice shampoo. Once or twice Sam heard him humming again, far off down the corridors.

 

Gabriel realised, after an incident involving several broken shower heads and an exploding radio, that exposure to his grace itself had been giving Sam flashbacks. His eyes had widened with horror as he put it together, and he looked so guilty that Sam had to reassure him that it was alright, he hadn't known. 

 

_/Why didn't you tell me?/_ Gabriel asked, helping him to clear shards of glass off the garage floor. Sam just shrugged. He'd gotten into the habit of not bothering to tell anyone what induced the flashbacks. What was the point of even trying to avoid them when your entire lifestyle should have come with a trigger warning? Better to just push it down and move on.  Nevertheless, after that whenever Gabriel got frustrated he always disappeared deep into the bunker until he stopped radiating grace, and Sam couldn't help but be thankful. 

 

And finally, finally Gabriel started to properly communicate. He nodded to Sam when he asked questions, pointed to passages of text in the research books. And he started to sign more and more. Sam might not have gotten very far with being able to sign himself, but he was always much better at understanding, and Gabriel picked up where Eileen had left off with his instruction. Soon, he and Gabriel could have whole discussions, and Sam was secretly thrilled. It was like the layers of Gabriel’s shields were slowly peeling back, revealing someone almost completely different from the being he’d known before. Gabriel was playful, and kind, and affectionate. And even though he was trying to hide it, Sam could see that he was getting lonely, cooped up in the bunker with no one but him to talk to.

 

There wasn’t much they could do about that, unfortunately. Taking him out in public with the threads on his lips would have been almost impossible, as much as Sam wanted to. He tried to make up for it by getting Gabriel out of the bunker, taking longer and longer walks. Gabriel even surprised him by starting to join him on runs. Sam would never have guessed that someone with such short legs could be so fast. 

 

_ /Lower centre of gravity, better acceleration,/ _ Gabriel smirked at him while Sam gasped, trying to catch his breath. 

 

Sam was conflicted about… well, not being  _ more  _ conflicted when it came to Gabriel. He had killed Dean, and there should have been more resentment there. But being around him was easy, easy like it hadn’t been since Eileen died. 

 

Maybe he  _ had  _ started to forgive Gabriel, Sam thought to himself. Why shouldn’t he? He had long since realised the messages Gabriel had tried to teach him before the apocalypse. And after all these years, he was just so  _ tired _ . If he wanted to forgive and forget, then that was his decision. And if Gabriel kept smiling at him like that, all bright and cocky and so utterly himself, then that might happen sooner rather than later.

 

.o0o.

 

It was three weeks after Gabriel’s change of heart when Sam jolted awake to a loud thump. He listened, debating getting up, but then he heard another thump as Gabriel’s door opened and the sound of footsteps approaching his door. The was a moment of hesitation, and then the door pushed open, revealing Gabriel’s bedraggled silhouette. By the slump of his shoulders, Sam knew exactly the sort of dream he’d had.

 

“You too, huh?”

 

Gabriel nodded miserably, hugging his arms around himself. He was shaking. Sam regretted that he hadn’t woken sooner, hadn’t been able to calm Gabriel down like he had for Sam. But he might still be able to help. He lifted a corner of the blanket.

 

“Get in here.”

 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. 

 

“Dean used to do this for me. You’ll sleep better, honest.” He smiled, holding his other hand up, trying to look as calm and unthreatening as possible. Hesitantly, Gabriel stepped forwards and climbed under the blanket. Sam rolled until they were back to back, the too-prominent knobs of Gabriel’s spine rising and falling reassuringly against his shoulder blades. Maybe this way, they could both get a few more hours before the nightmares kicked in...

 

Sam woke up the next morning with Gabriel lying half under him, hugged against his chest like a pillow with one bony knee rammed between Sam’s legs. Sam froze, eyes wide, trying not to wake him. Shit. What if Gabriel took this the wrong way? What if things got awkward?

 

Gabriel took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He blinked, squinting up at Sam blearily. He freed one hand to sign,  _ /You’re really heavy./ _

 

The tension broke and Sam snorted. They untangled themselves with disgruntled groans, Sam getting up to stagger off in search of coffee. It was only by the time he was halfway through his mug that he realised that he hadn’t woken once. When was the last time he’d been able to sleep through the night? He watched the foam swirl slowly around his mug, trying to remember. Not for years at least. Not since the cage.

 

He sneaked a glance across the kitchen at Gabriel, investigating how Sam’s smartphone worked. He looked better too. More rested, the ever-present bags under his eyes a little smaller.

 

The next night, Gabriel never bothered going back to his own bed. Without saying a word, he walked into Sam’s room that evening and plopped down next to him, shooting him a challenging stare. Sam just grinned, closing his eyes and listening to Gabriel’s breathing slowly even out. It was just because they both slept better together, he told himself. That was absolutely all it was.

 

.o0o.

 

As the trust between them grew, Sam should have known it was coming. But he was still surprised one morning when Gabriel tapped him on the arm and held out the sigiled wire cutters.

 

Sam shut the book he had been reading, turning to give Gabriel his full attention. “Are you  _ sure  _ this time?” he said, after a pause. “We can wait, it’s not a problem…” but Gabriel waved the pliers at him impatiently. “Well, if you’re sure.” 

 

Sam reached out for them and turned them over in his hands. How should they do this? After a bit of rearranging, Gabriel sat at the table with Sam hovering in front of him.

 

Gabriel still looked nervous, but not nearly as much as the last time. There was no grace buzzing through the air, and that was reassuring. Sam lent in, ready to pull back at the first sign of panic. He knew that Gabriel wouldn’t try and hurt him, but his grace was another matter. Gabriel still couldn’t control it, and it had only been getting more powerful without Asmodeus draining it. Sam was more than a little nervous of breaking something if he was thrown across the room again. 

 

Gabriel flinched at the first touch of cold metal to his lips and Sam quickly pulled back. But Gabriel just shook himself, leaning forwards and nodding at Sam to continue. Sam lent back in, focusing on Gabriel’s lips to avoid his own nerves. He was so close that he could feel Gabriel’s warmth, see his pulse beating fast under the skin of his throat. Sam closed the final inch, took the wire between the blades, squeezed the handles and-

 

-the wire wouldn’t cut.

 

Sam frowned, tried harder. He took the pliers in his other hand and tried again, applying all his strength, but the stitches wouldn’t break. He leant back, disappointed.

 

“Well, that was useless. They must have stronger magic on them than we thought.”

 

Gabriel snatched the pliers from his grip, inspecting the runes closely. His scowl deepened and he chucked them onto the table in disgust. Sam flinched as behind him the lamp exploded with a loud BANG and a burst of sparks. Gabriel threw up his hands, and for half a second Sam braced himself for more explosions, but Gabriel just leant forwards, rubbing a hand over his forehead, a loud frustrated sound leaking out past his still-sealed lips. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“It’s okay, Gabe. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

 

Gabriel seemed like he was contemplating shrugging Sam off for a second, on storming out and finding a deserted corner of the bunker to sulk where his wayward grace couldn’t destroy anything else. Sam wouldn’t blame him. But instead, his shoulders slumped forward and he leant into Sam’s hand, his eyes slipping closed. 

 

_ /Sorry./ _

 

“Don’t apologise, you’re fine. I’m just sorry it didn’t work.” Sam paused, trying to lighten the mood. “You might have to start chipping in for the lightbulbs, though. They’re not cheap- ooomph!”

 

Gabriel wrapped his arms around Sam’s chest, squeezing tightly. Sam’s hands hesitated, then came up to wrap around Gabriel in return. He buried his smile in Gabriel’s shoulder.

 

Eventually, Gabriel drew back. He stared at Sam for a long minute, enough time for him to start to feel a little uncomfortable under the intense stare. Sam tried to read his expression. Was it indecision? Longing? Whatever it was, it made nerves of anticipation tingle in his stomach. He firmly squashed them.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

Gabriel shook himself, shaking his head.  _ /Nothing./  _ He patted Sam’s arm, hand lingering for a second before turning and walking off for the kitchen.

 

Sam stood in the library for a long time, trying to pretend to himself that what he was feeling wasn’t disappointment.

 

.o0o.

 

“How’s everything going back there?” Dean’s voice came out of the speakers tinny and distant, but just about audible.

 

Sam smiled at the phone propped up against a stack of books. “Good, actually.” 

 

And, surprisingly, it was; the bunker was cosy that evening, Gabriel was relaxing across the table from him, and there was even a new lead on how to get Mary and Jack back. This was the best he'd felt in years.

 

Dean squinted out at him intently from the screen, a little confused but pleased. “Yeah, you look better. Some rest must have done you good. I wouldn’t have thought that hanging out with Gabriel would be restful, but go figure.” 

 

Sam grinned. “It’s the relief of not having you around, jerk. It’s been the most restful two months I ever had. What are you two even doing out there?” 

 

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows across the table at him and signed  _ /sex/ _ , and Sam had to fight to keep the laughter off his face.

 

“Bitch.” Dean’s face turned businesslike. “We’re still trying to track Lucifer, but he’s a slippery bastard. Every time we think we’ve got him, he’s gone again. We’re getting closer though. We’ll be in Wisconsin by tomorrow and we think he- Hey!” The camera moved, giving him a brief blurred view of the motel pinboard covered in newspaper clippings and string. Sam heard Dean say “Careful with the phone-”, then the picture righted itself to show Cas’ serious face. 

 

“How is my brother, Sam?”

 

“We’re doing well.” Sam flipped the camera so it was pointed at Gabriel. “Gabe, did you hear that? Cas says hi!” 

 

Gabriel waved absent-mindedly, his boots up on the table as he turned the page of a large tome on inter-dimensional metaphysics. 

 

“Hello Gabriel. You’re looking better. Ah, I see you’ve had no luck taking the stitches out?” 

 

Sam turned the phone back to himself and shook his head. “No, we tried a few things but the wire’s cursed.”

 

“Have you tried the archangel blade we recovered from Asmodeus? If anything can cut through curses, it would be that.”

 

Sam felt his heart leap, but Gabe was already shaking his head.

 

/ _ It’s not my real blade _ ,/ he signed. / _ It’s a fake. Can’t bring the real one. _ / 

 

Sam sank back in disappointment. “You can’t summon it?”

 

Gabriel inclined his head in affirmation and grinned, despite the stitches pulling at his lips.

 

_ /Asmodeus is very stupid. Easy to trick. I wasn't going to give him my real blade. That thing could kill me./  _

 

Sam snorted.  

 

Dean snatched the phone back. “So no progress on getting his grace back, then?” he said, scowling at Cas out of shot.

 

“No. Nothing he can control, anyway.” Sam lowered his voice when he saw Gabriel's jaw subtly clench. His lack of control over his grace was still a sore subject.

 

Dean grunted. “That’s a shame. We could have used him out here. The sunofabitch keeps getting away from us.”

 

Sam frowned at that. Gabriel wasn’t just something for them to use. If Sam had his way, neither of them would never have to face Lucifer again. Suddenly, he was selfishly glad they couldn’t remove the threads. At least this way, Gabriel could stay in the bunker, safe. With Sam. 

 

Cas made a muffled noise of success in the background and Sam heard him exclaim, “Dean, we have a new lead!”

 

“Better go, Sammy. Keep me updated, yeah?”

 

“You got it, Dean. Stay safe out there.”

 

“When aren’t I?” Dean winked at him before hanging up. 

 

Sam stared at the blank screen for several long minutes, mulling over the conversation. The closer to Lucifer Dean and Cas got, the more worried he was. Eventually, he sighed and made himself put the phone down. There was nothing he could do but keep going. He had to convince himself that Dean and Cas would come back fine. There wasn’t another option.

 

Gabriel raised a questioning eyebrow at him, turning another page.  _ /You look worried. What’s wrong?/ _

 

“I hope they come back safe, that’s all. Lucifer’s not an enemy to be taken lightly.”

 

Gabriel nodded grimly in understanding. If anyone knew it, it would be them.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh one more to go!


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

A noise came from deep within the bunker.

 

Sam opened his eyes, rousing quickly from his shallow hunter’s sleep. He noticed that the bed beside him was cold, and he frowned. Where was Gabe? Maybe he went for a walk. Sam knew he got restless sometimes at night. 

 

He lay still for a few minutes, slowly drifting back towards sleep. 

 

There it was again. 

 

Sam opened his eyes with a deep groan and pushed himself upright, huffing as he headed for the door. It was probably nothing.

 

But the more he woke up, the more wary he became. Gabriel never made noise, still snuck around the bunker like he was scared of being noticed by whatever was hiding in the shadows when Sam wasn’t with him. The noise wasn’t Gabriel. And Sam knew the settling creaks that the bunker made by heart now. The subtle noises he could hear wasn’t part of them. No. Something else was here. 

 

He pulled his gun out of his waistband, checked that Ruby’s knife was tucked into his pocket. The last wisps of sleep were long gone, washed away by adrenaline and anxiousness. What the hell could have got past their wards? He had to find Gabriel before whatever it was found him first. 

 

He was getting closer. His silent footsteps couldn’t be heard over the muffled thuds. He turned towards it, pausing to listen; it was coming from the war room. 

 

He crept closer, peeking around the corner, gun leading the way. The lights were all off, nobody there. He checked, looking into all the corners before emerging into the room. He felt suddenly exposed, the hair rising on his arms and the back of his neck. His gut was telling him someone was there, but when he looked around again the room was still empty. 

 

“Gabriel?” He whispered, almost inaudible but still sounding loud as a shout in the close silence. No reply.

 

Trying to calm himself, he swept his gaze around for anything unusual. Wait, what was that on the table? He could have sworn he tidied up before he went to bed. He approached warily, gun slowly lowering. It was a small box. He narrowed his eyes, peering down at it. With one last glance around, he bent over, looking closer. 

 

As soon as he touched it, the box exploded with a blinding flash and a cloud of smoke. 

 

Sam staggered back, coughing, dropping his gun, hands coming up to protect his face. A sharp impact hit the back of his head, throwing bright spots of nauseous pain onto his vision. He cried out, dropping to the ground. He reached out blindly, trying to find his attacker, but a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, baring his throat. He felt the keen nick of a blade against his skin, biting down warningly. He froze, his hands coming up in surrender. His stomach was already sinking. He knew in his gut who was behind him. He had two thousand years’ worth of memories to know what it felt like.

 

“Explosives,” Lucifer hissed in his ear. “As much as I hate to resort to the tricks you little mud monkeys use, I have to admit you can be quite resourceful. Who would have known you could have come up with such destructive things all on your own?” 

 

Sam whimpered, he couldn’t help himself. He could feel himself shaking, shrinking back down to that pathetic, broken creature he had become in the cage. Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, Sammy, you thought you’d gotten away, didn’t you? You should have known I’d catch up with you eventually. We’ve still got so much more fun to have together, bunk buddy!” 

 

Sam felt ill, his stomach rolling. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He knew that he should struggle, should try to break free, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Just like his nightmares. But this one was real.

 

Another terrifying thought occurred to him. Lucifer probably didn’t know that Gabriel was still alive; it didn’t look like he’d found him yet. He’d killed Gabriel the last time he saw him. Who knew what he’d do to him this time, while Gabriel was nearly depowered? Sam took a deep breath, pulling himself back together and trying to concentrate. Whatever he did, he had to keep Lucifer occupied and away from Gabriel. Why would Lucifer break into the bunker? Think, Sam, think.

 

“Look, you’re trying to stop Michael, right?” He was proud of how steady his voice sounded. “We could help, form an alliance-“ 

 

“Shut up.” Lucifer’s hold on his scalp tightened. Sam winced. “Hmm. Does this seem like a situation where you have any kind of bargaining power? No. I think not. Let me show you how this is going to work.”

 

Sam felt a bruising blow to his leg, followed by a resounding  _ snap _ . He let out a strangled groan at the pain, his entire body throbbing with it. He dropped, his other leg giving out, but Lucifer’s fist was still wound into his hair, his voice hissing poisonously against his neck. “Do you understand now, Sam? How utterly you are at my mercy? I can do anything to you,  _ anything _ .” Sam sobbed. “Now, where were we?”

 

The light clicked on. Lucifer’s head whipped towards the sound, dragging Sam around to face the newcomer. 

 

“Gabriel?” There was shock in Lucifer’s voice. Sam rolled his gaze downwards to look, his head still held back by his hair. Gabriel was standing in the doorway, frozen just like Sam was.  _ No, no, why hadn’t he stayed away?  _ Sam watched as the blood drained from his face, shades of terror flickering behind his wide eyes.  _ Run!  _ Sam wanted to scream at him, but the words stuck in his throat. 

 

Lucifer recovered quickly. “Baby brother! What a surprise! So nice of you to join us. We were just getting started, weren’t we Sam? Oooh…” Lucifer spotted the threads, and winced in mock sympathy, sucking air past his teeth. “That looks painful. Let me guess, Asmodeus?” He grinned, edging forwards, forcing Sam to limp in front of him. “I knew that demon was too powerful. Tell me, Gabriel, were our cells close? Could you hear me and little Cassie talking? Oh wait, you can’t tell me!” He laughed, and Sam clenched his jaw.  _ He couldn’t make his move. Not yet _ . “They got you there, Gabriel. As much of a cheap imposter as Asmodeus is, I have to admire his style! The messenger, unable to deliver a message? Ironic. I like it.”

 

Gabriel backed away as Lucifer advanced. But Gabriel surprised him, turning and grabbing the fake archangel blade off the table as soon as it came within reach. He swung it around and pointed its tip at Lucifer.

 

Lucifer laughed, disbelieving. “What are you going to do with that, Gabriel? Fight me? We both know how that turned out for you before.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes were wide, the knife visibly quivering in his double-handed hold. Sam could hear his shaky breaths whistling through his nose. Still, he took a step forwards. Lucifer dug his blade warningly into Sam’s throat and Gabriel jerked to a stop. Sam swallowed, feeling the warm blood trickle slowly down his neck.  

 

“Ah-ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, brother-mine. Not if you want Sammy here to live.”

 

Gabriel slowly lowered the knife. Sam could feel Lucifer’s smile against his neck.

 

“Ooooh I sense a soft spot! Really, brother? Fraternising with my true vessel? And I thought you were stooping low when you were messing around with the pagans. But this is perfect! This is how it’s gonna work. You’re going to put down the blade, and you’re gonna come over here. Then I’m going to tie you both up, and we can wait for Castiel and his boy toy to get back from their wild goose chase. This bunker should contain all the ingredients to permanently seal off this world, and between consuming your souls and Castiel’s grace I should have more than enough power to rule heaven. But first, Asmodeus should be easy enough to deal with now he’s lost his portable battery pack.” He grinned at Gabriel. “This is actually working out better than I imagined! No need to use my own grace when I could just take yours instead. For once in your pathetic life, you’re gonna be useful!” Gabriel whimpered at the mention of his grace, staggering back a step. 

 

“No-” Sam blurted out, horrified.

 

Lucifer let the blade bite deeper. “Shut up,” He hissed, showing his true colours. He smoothed himself over once again, and his voice was artificially pleasant as he turned back to Gabriel. “Put down the blade. Now.”

 

Sam knew what was going to happen a second before it did. Gabriel tensed, ready to leap. But there was a moment of hesitation before Gabriel moved, and just like last time, that was his downfall.

 

“No!” Sam shouted again, but Lucifer was already shoving him aside to meet his brother’s blade head-on. Even almost powerless, Lucifer’s vessel was taller and faster. He parried easily, retaliating with a stab that Gabriel barely managed to dodge. Sam tried to get up, but his arms were shaking and his broken leg wouldn’t take his weight. 

 

Lucifer laughed, eyes glowing red with malicious glee. “You thought you could match me? The Morningstar?” He  knocked the sword out of Gabriel’s shaking hands with an almost casual flick. It clattered to the floor and Gabriel staggered back. “You can’t do it, brother! Stop trying to pretend to be a hero! Because this is the truth, and it’s all you’ll ever be,” Lucifer advanced. Gabriel tripped and staggered. “You’re a coward, Gabriel. That’s what you are. Weak, and a coward. Here I am, powerless, and you still,  _ still  _ can’t do it!”

 

Lucifer reached out, grabbing the front of Gabriel’s jacket, drawing the knife back. With one last desperate heave, Sam managed to grab hold of Gabriel’s dropped blade and get to his feet, staggering towards them through the pain, but he knew with panicked certainty he wasn’t going to reach them in time.

 

Lucifer cocked his head, looking down into his brother’s terrified eyes, and paused. “Wait. You know what? This isn’t the worst thing I could do to you, is it?” Gabriel’s eyes got impossibly wider and he shook his head desperately, but Lucifer laughed, throwing him aside and turning back towards Sam, putting his back to Gabriel. “You always did have a soft spot for the mud monkeys, didn’t you? But especially this one.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes lit up with rage and he leapt forwards again, despite his terror. Sam opened his mouth to scream, because Gabriel was going to get himself killed, he didn’t even have a knife, but suddenly a spark appeared in Gabriel’s palm. It bloomed, growing and condensing into bright metal. Time seemed to slide into slow motion, the keen blade coming down in a long, iridescent ark towards Lucifer’s back.

 

Lucifer staggered forwards with the impact. He looked down at the tip of the blade protruding from his chest in confusion, then up at Sam’s face. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He fell forwards, sliding off Gabriel’s true blade with a long, slick noise, but Sam was there, driving the other knife through him in one clean move. He wasn’t taking any chances.

 

“That’s for me, you asshole,” Sam hissed in his ear. Then he twisted the blade, driving it deeper into his chest. “And that’s for Gabriel.” 

 

He looked into Lucifer’s still disbelieving eyes as the red light in them spluttered and died, and didn’t feel a single drop of pity.

 

.o0o.

 

They left the body where it fell. Sam figured that Dean had earned his turn at cleaning out corpses from the library, and neither he nor Gabriel could bear to look at Lucifer for a second longer, even if he was dead. 

 

They retreated to the kitchen instead, Gabriel helping Sam to splint his leg and limp along the corridors. He knew it would need to be properly set later, but for now they were too tired, even if there was no chance of either of them going to sleep any time soon. Sam put on a pan of milk for cocoa, Gabriel sitting at the table cleaning his newly materialised blade almost obsessively. 

 

The silence that fell over them was peaceful, almost domestic. Sam knew that it was probably just shock, but he leant against the stove, watching as Gabriel ran a cloth over the shining sword in his grip until it almost glowed. He suddenly understood Gabriel’s amusement that Asmodeus would ever be convinced by the fake blade; the real thing was unmistakable, a beautiful, shimmering weapon of mass destruction. There was something mesmerising about it, brutal divinity captured in iridescent metal.

 

Gabriel slowly stopped, raising the blade until it was in front of his face, considering it. Then he glanced up at Sam, holding it out. Sam limped over to the table and took it hesitantly, aware that Gabriel wasn’t just handing him any old knife. The blade was a  _ part  _ of him. The blade could kill him, permanently. Sam looked up at him, and Gabriel gestured to the threads still holding his lips together.

 

_ /Do it, it’ll work with this one./ _

 

Sam remembered Cas saying the same thing. “Are you sure?” He asked, a thousand more questions hiding under it. Was Gabriel sure he wanted Sam’s help with this? He was sure Gabriel could do it himself now. Why ask Sam?

 

Gabriel shrugged, just a hint of his now-rare sarcastic humour entering his eyes as he nodded to the pan on the stove.  _ /No, I just want cocoa./ _

 

Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. Gabriel glanced down at his lap, and when he looked up again, there was so much sincerity in his gaze that it took Sam’s breath away.

 

_ /I trust you./ _

 

Sam couldn’t speak, he just nodded and pulled up a chair in front of Gabriel. His hands shook a little, but he made sure that the blade was perfectly steady as he pressed it to the wires. Gabriel’s eyes were on his face, not wide or panicked, just watching. 

 

Just the tiniest bit of pressure, and the first stitch snapped, the blade’s razor edge cutting through it like butter. Sam let out the breath he’d been holding in a rush.  

 

He cut another. And another, and another, until there were only loose ends. “Stay here,” Sam said, getting up and heading for the kettle to pour some more boiled water into a bowl. He made his way back over towards the table, pulling up his seat again as he grabbed some sterile gauze from the still open first aid box and pulled out the tweezers. 

 

It was difficult, delicate work. The skin of Gabriel’s lips had healed around the obstructions, the skin clinging to the stitches as Sam tried to pull them through. It took a small eternity of gently teasing the wires out while Gabriel winced, stopping every time to wipe away the drops of blood that welled out of the newly-reopened wounds. 

 

Finally, all the wires were out. It took another ten minutes of dabbing with the damp gauze while they tried to separate Gabriel’s lips where dried blood and grime had sealed them shut. Finally, Sam leant back, watching as Gabriel opened and closed his mouth, working his jaw and grimacing. It must have been a relief to be able to move his face properly after so long, but his mouth still looked painfully raw. 

 

Gabriel looked up and tried to speak, but all that came out was a cracked whistle. They both winced. Sam got up and got a glass of water, which Gabriel gratefully took. He sipped it, bringing one hand up to rub his throat. Sam felt his eyes widen in surprise when he saw the glow coming from between Gabriel’s fingers. Gabriel pulled his fingers away, staring at them as though he’d never seen them before, then brought them back to his throat, grinning wildly. 

 

“Hells yeah!” His voice was still hoarse, but the painful grating was gone. And even better, the wounds from the stitches were rapidly fading, the scabs already disappearing into a thin layer of silver-pink scars.

 

Sam watched the transformation with amazement. “Your grace is back!”

 

Gabriel shrugged, taking another sip of water. “Not fully, but the stitches were helping keep it contained. Now they’re gone, I’m back, baby!” He snapped his fingers, then his face dropped into a scowl when only half a butterfinger appeared. “Well, sort of.”

 

Sam tried to hold in his amusement, then gave in and snorted with laughter. Gabriel’s mouth turned back up into a grin and he reached forwards. “Here, let me get your leg.”

 

“You don’t have to-” Sam broke off with a hiss as grace washed over him. This time, though, its touch was delicate; there was no anger in it. It didn’t stir up any of the bad memories in the way that it had before. There was a quiet click as the bone slotted back into place, and then a warm rush as the tissues knitted back together. Sam leaned back with a sigh as the pain he had been repressing vanished. Gabriel’s quick fingers undid the knots holding their makeshift brace together, letting Sam stretch the leg out, whole once more.

 

“That’s better. Thanks, Gabe.” He wiggled his toes. “We should phone Dean and Cas. Tell them that we’ve taken care of their problem while they were on tour, so they can get their asses back here and help us open this portal.”

 

Gabriel grinned, and Sam could see the gleam of a multitude of potential pranks lighting up his eyes. “True. Our bros are probably gonna blow a gasket when they find out about all the fun we’ve been having while they were on their little honeymoon.” He scooched his chair closer to Sam’s, then sat up straight. “But first, before they get back, there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

 

“Wha-” Sam felt a firm hand grip the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing his lips to Gabriel’s. His eyes were still wide open in surprise when Gabriel let go, his mouth hanging open. He was frozen in elated disbelief. Had that really just happened? He felt as though he had to be glowing, the light in his chest that Gabriel had put there had to be burning bright enough to be shining through his skin.

 

Gabriel was watching him nervously. “You okay there, Gigantor? Shit, I didn’t give you shock, did I? I have no idea how to treat shock, you humans are so fragile...”

 

Sam came back to himself as Gabriel started rambling, his eyes darting like he was looking for an escape. Sam cleared his throat. “Gabriel,”

 

Gabriel’s rambling just got louder. “What if I’ve given you PTSD? Not that you don’t have that already, but all the things I did to you back then, I probably made it worse. What was I thinking? And my grace! You know what, this was a terrible idea, how about we pretend that it never happened-”

 

Gabriel’s voice cut off again when Sam bent down and gently pressed his lips to his. Sam slowly pulled back. 

 

It was Gabriel’s turn to be speechless, his expression slowly turning hopeful. Like he hadn’t even been able to consider Sam actually agreeing to this. “So I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

 

Sam let his smile answer for him, as big and bright as the hope in his chest. Yes. They were going to be just fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all! (for now ;)) Reviews are golden!

**Author's Note:**

> This one's complete, so chapters should arrive in quick succession!


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